Polybius - The Watcher III

[Zardoz]

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February 20th, 2021

Initially I thought the argument amongst the perpetrators of the bonfire and others bared no real importance in being noted, yet the bitterness never truly left. The main concern was vindicated yesterday by the arrival of hunters trying to scout out the area, drawn by the loud raging inferno consuming what was left of The Hive. Ramos, the masked lady I met a day or so prior, and myself have no doubt marked ourselves as pariahs in this camp for our complaints. The arsonists had stated this decision had been made known in advance on radio, as if everyone had access to such a device or let alone had them switched on. Frustration overtook us all, and I have not the faintest clue if James or Faith sanctioned such actions. Whatever the case may be now, the die was cast and we could remove any hope of maintaining a low profile, not just from the Combine but also The Watcher.

As I awoke the next day there was bitterness in the air. My sleep was cut relatively short by horrendous nightmares of the grizzly scene the day before, a horrid flame followed by some all-consuming force, swallowing everything until the last light is extinguished into a black void. Suffice to say I could not for the life of me try to return to my slumber. As dangerous as it was outside I had to find answers. Ramos was virtually no where to be found, and the rest were either asleep or out on a scavenging hunt, those on watch avoided me like the plague. When you only had prison clothes, a haircut straight from a concentration camp, and a shotgun, it was hard to approach others. Yet aside from the woe's of male pattern baldness and Ramos being no where to be found I still had to push on. The Hive or what was left of it was my first stop, admittedly I would be relieved to find most of the flesh wall gone, reduced to a pitiful pile of charred goo-like residue.

Miraculously in my own desperate scavenger hunt I found an untouched jug of gasoline that somehow was unscathed by the fires. The majority of the buildings were not so fortunate, yet thankfully the terminal building remained as a ghoulish reminder. I hoped anyone with some sense would stumble upon it and spread the word. Still, very few people with any sense would go back there... except for an insane failed historian such as myself. If being too honest ended up getting me thrown in Worksite 14 by the Combine, then I would be swimming in the River Styx trying to find the real history behind this cesspit. Hopefully those who remembered the 5th of November or the 4th of July burned out whatever nastiness had claimed the town.

In an ironic sense of relief, one I never wanted to experience but here I was, staring at the preserved devastation in the terminal building. Everything here from the agonizing scenes remained intact.. Somehow I withheld the can of chili I had last night at the sight of the dead, gleaming what information I could. A fool's errand, yet telling. Now I know for certain it was not human nor as sophisticated or organized as a synth assault that killed them. Yet alarmingly, the timing and location of the incident with the whole's town population under one roof told otherwise. Something either had the intelligence or was guided by someone with the knowledge of this place to wreak such a cold and calculated attack, one in which little to no witnesses would remain to report of the barbaric scene. Was it who I thought it was? Maybe that is why The Watcher remained so well fortified and absconded in his underground Infestation Control bunker.

Our own camp by no means was a secret and neither was The Watcher's bunker anymore. If one bad idea was not enough then another to ensure I perished would do the trick. I had decided I was going to pay The Watcher a visit and all I really had for a backup plan was a jug of gasoline and a gas mask. It was on my way back that I had that old familiar feeling loom over me, perhaps The Watcher had already paid me a visit? From the burned out buildings I swear I could have seen somebody or something move, I wasn't going to investigate it. I had to get the Hell out of there, maybe I would beat them at their own game? The bunker was not too far ahead and never in my life had I sprinted so fast even if it was all just paranoia. The entrance was surprisingly unlocked? Had The Watcher been the one following me or was it just my imagination? Maybe his mind slipped or this was some kind of trap. Nevertheless I entered knowing that if I died here, nobody would know or care to come for me.

Inside the bunker again it was then I realized that everything started to make a little too much sense. The forcefields, security cameras, bulkhead doors and passcode locks were a little too secure, but maybe not secure enough. What was Infestation Control exactly containing here or trying to prepare for? I knew the security cameras would be recording my every move and I had limited time to act before The Watcher inevitably returned, that is if he was missing at all. For some reason I preferred it when he spoke, the emptiness and his seeming absence was felt. I did not even get far before all doors were dead ends. A generator room, another hall and a locker room. Everything was locked up tight and anything that was not had either been emptied or had nothing to note. I am sure he was hiding something. Both barrels of my gun hovered over one of the doors but I figured, while I may be too nosy for my own good I was not going to get pinned for breaking and entering.

With all that said and done I made haste exiting that bunker, with or without The Watcher watching. Although, I know by tonight once he reviews the security footage if there is any tape left, he will know who visited. Maybe next time he will be around to entertain my questions, maybe he will gas me out or both. At this point I just wanted answers.